


In the Still Dark

by nayanroo



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Fluff, what's wow lore lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 06:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20304757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nayanroo/pseuds/nayanroo
Summary: Two dates, a thousand years apart. A first, and hopefully, the first of many more.





	In the Still Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Frankly I think it's criminal there's only a page of fic for this ship, and as a Fluff Monster, I cannot let this stand.
> 
> Also I'm only loosely familiar with some deep lore but so is Blizzard, so I'm taking a hammer and fixing the canon.

_You are the Lantern_

_In the Still Dark of this Night_

_You Are My Beacon_

-Tyler Knott Gregson

*

_Then._

* * *

“Alleria?”

She pursed her lips, but found that—_again—_she couldn’t feel more than a vague and passing irritation at Turalyon. This man, this _human_, had apparently heard she’d come to Stormwind on Ranger business and had sought her out, and just when she’d thought she’d put thoughts of him from her mind, Alleria found that once more he had her full attention. Even more irritatingly, she was _happy_ about it, her stomach doing a little flip. _Calm down._

“Turalyon. You have a question writ upon your face.”

He had _nervousness_ writ upon his face, but her skill at tracking had been learned through long hours of observation and reading signs that were not obvious at a first pass. And… seeing him shift a little made a wave of fondness wash over her, and pleasure that her presence alone was enough to make such a talented and able paladin flush red.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) Turalyon recovered enough to press on. “I had wondered if you would be in Stormwind long. There is… ah… well, it is the Midsummer fire festival, and there is to be a display of fireworks tonight...”

“Yes, I had heard.” She left it there and let him dangle for a moment. Once again, he recovered well, and once again, Alleria felt pleased that he did.

“I know of a fine place to watch them from,” he continued. “It is quieter than most of the festival areas, less crowded. I was wondering if you might like to meet me there for the evening.”

She couldn’t help her eyebrows rising up toward her hairline. Alleria hadn’t missed the luminaries placed along bridges and walkways and buildings, waiting to be lit at nightfall, nor had she missed the bonfires being built up in the courtyards and squares. The fire festival could be rowdy, and she’d intended to find a quiet place to bed down for the night away from the crowds and set off for Silvermoon again in the morning. But the hopeful note in Turalyon’s voice, something about the way the light caught gold flecks in his brown eyes, made her reconsider.

“I would indeed like that,” she said. “At nightfall, then?”

The smile on his face was all that Alleria needed to know she’d made the right decision. He was young, but the corners of Turalyon’s eyes crinkled as he beamed at her. “Perhaps a little before,” he said. “Meet me on the Cathedral steps an hour before sunset.”

As she walked away, Alleria was glad for the shadows of her hood. They hid the smile she couldn’t keep off her face, and the warmth on her cheeks that could only mean a blush. She was no longer a girl, but something about Turalyon brought out only joy in her heart.

*

It wasn’t that Khadgar _liked_ seeing his friends squirm, or particularly enjoyed it when they were in obvious discomfort. It was just that sometimes, the universe aligned so that he could witness something like Turalyon, paladin and former priest and renowned hero, pacing back and forth in his tower study.

“I think it will all go better for you if you tell me what’s on your mind and stop wearing holes in my carpet,” he said mildly.

Turalyon waved a hand, but did stop pacing. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, and Khadgar simply folded his gloved hands and rested his chin on them, waiting. He had an idea what might have his friend so flustered, but he wanted to hear it first.

“I am seeing Alleria tonight—“

“Oh, _finally—_“

“Alleria Windrunner, you know—what?”

“Nothing. Continue.”

“…right, I asked her to accompany me to tonight’s festival fireworks, and she agreed, and now I must ask your help.”

“Well, it seems like rather a private party, if you don’t mind my saying, Turalyon.”

“No, no. I am—I have planned a sort of picnic dinner, in a secluded spot I know with a fine view of the sky, away from the festival crowds. She doesn’t like crowds,” he added, half to himself. “And now I ask for your help to make it something that might impress a Ranger-Captain of Silvermoon.”

Khadgar sat back in his chair, letting his hands drop. “Forgive me for saying so, but I think you have done most of the work already, my friend.”

“But I wish to _impress_ her, Khadgar. Her people, they have fantastical magical power. I have the Light, but… it is not something I can use much outside of battle, not in a way that can help me. Please, my friend, I… I very much want to show her that I am serious in my affection for her.”

He thought about letting Turalyon fuss for a moment longer, but in the end, Khadgar took up his staff and stood. “Of course I’ll help you,” he said. “There’s hardly a better mage on Azeroth… and you need all the help you can get.”

*

The clock was chiming the hour as Alleria shouldered past a group of festivalgoers making their way back out of the square. At this time of year the steps of the Cathedral and the square before it were packed, and for a moment as she scanned the crowds she despaired of ever finding Turalyon—at least, until she caught sight of pale hair, catching the last few rays of the sun as it dipped toward the sea, and then a part of her wondered how she ever thought she could have missed him. Once she saw him, her eyes could go straight to him.

_That_ was a thought that deserved further meditation, but Alleria put it aside for the moment and straightened her clothing. She’d put aside her cloak and light armor in favor of a long tunic slit high up the sides to show the fine leatherwork of her pants, and in the crowd people barely gave her ears a second look as she made her way across to where Turalyon stood partway up the Cathedral steps. He had shucked his armor, too, and she was pleased to see him without it. He was broad-shouldered and strong, the fabric of his sleeves taut over his muscles, but it was the look on his face as he watched her approach that made that strange fondness rise in her heart again. Turalyon looked at her like they were the only two people in the square, and it made Alleria want to run—but she was not sure if she wanted to run away into the woods and the familiar solitude, or into his arms.

“I look forward to seeing _any_ place you know that is away from these crowds,” she said as she reached him.

“Luckily, it’s not far. Come, I’ll show you.” Turalyon hesitated, then offered her his arm, smiling when she took it. Alleria could feel his pulse beating fast under her fingers, and a flush of pleasure passed through her again.

The number of people lessened as they left the square and walked along the canals, the lapping of the water against the stone a soothing counterpoint to the sounds of revelry throughout the city. They talked a little—commenting on the luminaries that people were beginning to light, the decorations—but the quiet was just as good. It soothed her spirit from the brittle edge she’d been skirting, being in a city of mostly humans.

They turned a corner and she saw a small archway, two luminaries marking it off. There was a golden glow inside, but Alleria couldn’t see much, even as she craned her neck when Turalyon pulled them to a stop.

“I… would you mind if I asked you to close your eyes and let me lead you in?” he asked. “I want this to be a surprise.”

Alleria paused, looked him in the eyes – and nodded. “I trust you,” she said, quietly. Turalyon’s grateful smile was the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes.

“I’m going to take your hands now,” she heard. Warm, calloused fingers slipped against her palms then, and Alleria curled hers over them. Turalyon’s hands fit well against hers, gentle as he tugged her along. Their footsteps echoed for just a moment as they passed through the archway, and then her boots were sinking into soft grass, and the noises of a city in celebration were almost totally gone.

“Open your eyes,” she heard.

It was a small park, almost, or a grassy courtyard, and it was full of light. Not a harsh light, but a softer, golden glow coming from dozens of little magical orbs suspended in the branches of the trees growing against one of the stone walls. It was as beautiful and as peaceful as the quiet groves of Eversong Woods, and for a moment Alleria could only turn in place, taking it all in until her turn brought her back to face Turalyon. He was doing a poor job of hiding his nervousness, this sweet human, and it tugged at her heart. She smiled at him and he relaxed a little, his thumb sliding over her fingers. “It’s lovely, Turalyon.”

Alleria didn’t drop his hand either, letting him lead her over to where a blanket had been spread upon the grass. There was a basket there, with food and wine and sweets; by the time the lights on the trees were bright and the sky was dark and the bottle of wine was mostly gone, they had all but talked themselves hoarse and warmed the air with their laughter. Turalyon had (to her surprise) been something of a troublemaker when he’d been a priest, asking questions that the senior priests hadn’t felt like answering, and he’d laughed uproariously at her stories of Silvermoon Ranger mishaps and listened raptly to tales of dangerous escapades. They’d lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Alleria found herself looking into her half-empty glass of wine and thinking about honey-brown eyes, twinkling in golden mage-lights.

She hadn’t set out to fall for him, she thought. She hadn’t wanted the heartache of loving a human who would only live a fraction of her possible lifetime. But from the moment she’d met him until this moment now, she’d be damned if he wasn’t making it incredibly difficult.

“Alleria?”

“Hm?”

“I think the fireworks are about to begin.”

“Oh—right, should we—“

Turalyon pulled out some kind of stone and tapped a rune on it, and the lights in the trees dimmed until they were as the last glimmers of light on the horizon at the end of the day. In the dim light, Alleria raised an eyebrow at him as he shifted and got comfortable against the cushions beside her.

“Who’d you ask for help? Khadgar?”

“He owed me a favor.”

“You cashed in a favor from one of the most powerful mages on Azeroth… for lights?”

“It was worth it to see your reaction to them.”

Alleria went quiet, looking at him. Turalyon’s face was open to her, a little smile on his lips. Whatever nervousness had been there before, this was a simple statement, bare honesty. She could not yet articulate what her own truth was, and a part of her cried out to simply act, to show him in some other way.

Luckily, her hesitation was cut short by the boom of fireworks exploding overhead. The Fire festival displays were always wild and colorful, and the mages of the Kirin Tor occasionally lent their considerable abilities toward rather fascinating effects. Alleria watched a giant dragon, made of thousands of tiny glowing embers, careen toward the keep; at the last moment it burst into multicolored blooms in the sky, and she couldn’t help letting out a little gasp of delight at the display, clapping her hands—and then going still for a moment when she put her hands back down, for one of them had landed atop Turalyon’s fingers.

But that decision was simple. As the fireworks whistled and boomed over them, Alleria shifted her hand so it was fully on top of his, her thumb curving around and catching his index finger. He didn’t move away or say anything, but when she glanced over out of the corner of her eye, she saw him looking up at her, explosions of light in his eyes.

It wasn’t just the wine making her warm when the fireworks ended. Turalyon brought the lights back up so they could see, and Alleria packed the food—and unfortunately, the wine glasses—back into the basket.

“I can finish that,” Turalyon said behind her. “I’ll take you back to wherever you’re staying, here, let me help you up—“

She didn’t _need_ help, but she liked the way his hand felt in hers, so she took it and let him pull her to her feet—and maybe, just maybe, the stumble at the top was contrived. Alleria was one of the best rangers alive, surefooted on any terrain; for her to trip on flat ground was all but impossible. But trip she did, putting a hand out to catch herself against Turalyon’s chest. His heart still beat fast under her palm, but the hand he’d put on her hip to catch her didn’t shake.

“Are you all right?” His face was very close, and she watched his lips as he spoke. She could _feel_ his voice in his chest, and for a moment, a _very_ long moment, Alleria considered throwing all caution to the wind and kissing him so thoroughly she might taste the wine they’d had.

But she just nodded instead. She hadn’t meant to fall in love with a human but now in the space of a day she had, and no mistake about it. She needed time to think about the consequences of that for both of them. “Take me home, please, Turalyon,” she said quietly.

He delivered her safely back to the inn she’d taken a room at, leaving her at its door with a kiss pressed to the backs of her knuckles as if she was some noble lady. Before he could go too far, Alleria called out to him.

“I would like to do this again.”

Looking at her over his shoulder, Turalyon smiled, and it was as brilliant as the sun.

* * *

_Now._

* * *

“Alleria! Welcome back.”

Anduin looked different than she remembered; older, or maybe just tired. There were circles under his bright blue eyes, and a kind of bone-deep weariness that Alleria felt herself. Anduin should not be feeling it too, though. He was young, younger than Arator. He should be out seeing the world, not responsible for a map full of red and blue markers.

Maybe that was just the mother in her, though. The pragmatist told her he was the only one for the job.

“I’m glad to be back for a few days, King Anduin. Boralus can do without me.”

“Indeed. We’re fighting a war on many fronts, right now, and things—things are changing so rapidly...” He trailed off, and Alleria watched out of the corner of her eye as he played with a different marker than the rest, one of dark-colored wood that looked as though it was from some Pandaren game.

How lonely he must be, she thought. It was a feeling she knew all too well.

“I’ll be sure to rest while I’m here in Stormwind,” Alleria said gently. “If you have need of me, you know you have only to send word.”

“I know. Thank you, Alleria—oh, and there’s one more thing—Turalyon is back from Arathi.”

She kept her voice carefully neutral, although a thread of joy mixed with longing of her own sort had wormed its way into her stomach. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I think he’s waiting for you, actually. He gave his report this morning, and when I told him your ship was due in from Boralus tonight, he said to tell you he’d be in Cathedral Square, and you should meet him there.”

Anduin was giving her a speculative look, which Alleria felt she did _not_ need from a king barely above the age of majority. But she bowed her head out of respect just the same, and made her way out of the keep and into the city proper.

It was getting on toward dusk; Midsummer had passed but the air was warm, and Alleria pushed her hood back a bit, closing her eyes to bask in it. She was often cold these days, and could not tell if it was the void twisting within her body and consciousness or the sea air she spent so much time around. But she was tired of it, tired of being cold and lonely. She regretted nothing, and yet she regretted everything.

She made one stop at the small house they’d been granted by Anduin following their return from Argus, shucking her leather armor and cloak and bow in her room. The house echoed, empty of people and a heart. Alleria could do little about it but arrange some of the small knickknacks she’d acquired in Kul Tiras on an empty shelf in her room and shut the door.

Turalyon had fought her a little on the matter of separate rooms. He’d missed her dearly while Xe’ra had kept her imprisoned, it was clear, no matter the path she walked now. Alleria had a thousand years of memories of him and how his body felt pressed against her back, warm and solid but his hands as gentle as the day he took them and led her into a little grassy nook. Her body knew his and cried out for it even as her mind knew there was little chance of falling asleep pressed against his chest, and it was for that reason that Alleria had insisted. If they shared a space, a bed, no matter how many blankets were put between them there was always the chance that the temptation to reach out to him would be too great to bear. She could not, _would_ not hurt him any more than she already had.

Cathedral Square was packed, as usual. Some people recognized her and nodded their respect; mostly void elves, a few humans. Some regarded her ears with suspicion, something Alleria didn’t begrudge them; her sister had these ears, after all, and her sister was threatening their very lives and those of their loved ones. But once she saw who she was looking for, all the others melted away. He might be older now, deep scars on his face, hair lighter than ever… but Alleria would know her Turalyon anywhere.

“The conquering hero returns,” she said. Lightforged or not, she knew those eyes, and even just having them upon her again was enough to make Alleria’s stomach flutter pleasantly.

_And_ it was nice to know she could still make him freeze up for a moment before he could speak.

“The Arathi Highlands merely needed to be stabilized again. I did very little of the work, to be honest, it was largely the efforts of the champions that won the day.”

“Oh, so modest.”

“You would know if I inflated the truth, of course. I find it best not to earn my partner’s ire.”

He seemed to hesitate there, looking at her for a reaction. It made her heart hurt; she had not been there for him as a partner ought, opposing astral allegiances or no. She smiled at him, trying to reassure him.

“I appreciate your honesty, dear. And your audacity for using Stormwind’s king as a messenger boy.”

“I was only using the resources I had at my disposal. Something _you_ taught me, love.”

Hearing him call her that brought the flutter back again, and Alleria couldn’t help it when her smile grew. “I doubt you relayed a message via royalty simply to flirt with me in front of the Cathedral. What did you have in mind?”

“I wanted to flirt with you in front of the Cathedral.”

“Turalyon—“

“No, I jest.” He gestured toward the canals, a little smile on his face too. “Will you walk with me?”

_Anywhere, my love_, her heart said. “Of course,” her mouth said.

She had an idea of where they were going as soon as they turned along the canals, and by the time they stopped in front of a familiar stone archway, Alleria was smiling. It was weathered now by time, but…

“Aren’t you being sentimental,” she murmured, but her eyes were fond when she looked upon him.

“I’m allowed.” Turalyon was pulling on gloves, thick leather ones that she’d seen him wear sometimes in battle that were flexible and comfortable after years of use and care. He held his hands out to her.

“Do you still trust me, Alleria?”

She reached out, slipping her hands into the palms of his gloves. With the barrier between their skin there was barely a tingle of Light against void. Alleria closed her eyes.

“With my life.”

She felt his thumbs slip over her knuckles as he led her through the stone archway, letting their arms slacken but not releasing her when they stopped.

Alleria opened her eyes to see golden lights, floating in the tree branches, and a blanket and cushions on the ground… pillows with Silvermoon’s crest on them, and a blanket made in a fashion she recognized from her childhood, and braziers of the sort that blazed in taverns and buildings in the kingdom of her birth, all lit and filling the growing twilight with their glow.

“What...”

“I… heard about what happened,” Turalyon said quietly. “When you went to the Sunwell.”

She pulled away, and perhaps wisely he didn’t reach for her as she walked over to one of the braziers, studying it. The flame was magical and let off no heat. Alleria felt cold once more, whispers rising in her mind before she firmly tamped them back down, turning to look at her partner.

“Has everyone heard that story?”

“I know what your home means to you, and, well… it is no Silvermoon, but I hope it brings your heart a little comfort. I know it brings my heart comfort to see you well, Alleria. To be happy and healthy is all I ever want for you, for our family.”

“I—I don’t know what to say...”

“Say you’ll sit with me and have dinner. We never came back to this place after that first time, and I know you wanted to. There’ll be no fireworks tonight, but I think we’ll manage without them.”

He held out a hand to her, eyes kind and honey-brown. She had always found comfort in his eyes, in the incredible gentleness that belied the strength she saw from him in battle. Their paths might be divergent, but that did not mean their hearts had to be. She took his hand once more, twining her fingers between his gloved ones and letting him pull her down to the blanket.

This time, it was her smile that was as brilliant as the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter @NayanRoo!


End file.
